Ease
by jillyfae
Summary: Romance doesn't always have a lot to do with marriage, especially when dealing with politics and Blights, Anora's concerns and Aedan's elvish lover. But, that doesn't mean it has to be unpleasant, now does it?


She didn't want to take his hand.

She avoided it completely, up until the moment they were standing before the Grand Cleric herself, incense smoke trailing along the lines of her dress and the drape of his cloak, and there was no longer any way to pretend she hadn't walked into this with her eyes wide open.

At least his palms weren't damp with sweat.

He had impeccable manners at the formal reception afterwards.

_Better than Cailan's._

No. No thinking of her hus —

Today was not for memories of her first husband. No comparisons. No regrets. She had to look to the future.

A future full of a man who didn't love her.

Not that she needed him to do so.

Not that youthful infatuation had helped her first marriage any.

Why couldn't she stop thinking of Cailan?

Aedan, at least, seemed to respect her.

That was something.

That was everything.

* * *

It was odd, to be married.

He'd bedded his share of men and women.

But a wife, now, that was different.

To be distressingly honest with himself, a habit he'd only recently been forced to acquire, he wasn't quite sure how to start.

They were both perfectly well aware the night was supposed to end with _consummation_, of course, but he'd rather they both enjoyed themselves, and his usual tactic of smirking at someone to see if they would flirt back at him and he could drag them off between the sheets seemed unlikely to work with Anora.

_Zevran would charm her naked in a heartbeat._

That wasn't very helpful, thinking of his beloved when he was trying to be nice to his new wife.

_How did this become my life?_

He poured them both some wine, _wine always helps_, and brought a drink to Anora where she was sitting in front of the fireplace, wrapped in brocaded silk.

She was a very handsome woman, and the firelight was especially kind to her, warming the line of her cheek. He certainly wasn't unhappy to be with her, but her chin was up and her face smooth as she looked at him, and he wanted more than he'd expected to get a glimpse of the real Anora behind her political mask.

He set both their glasses down on the table beside her, take a few more steps until he stood behind her chair, lifting one hand to softly trace the lines of her braids against her scalp. "May I?"

She nodded.

He carefully found the ends of her braids, slowly unwrapping them from their twist, and then even more slowly pulling the braids themselves apart, separating and smoothing her hair with his fingers, until she was almost hidden by a cascade of kinked golden hair, practically glowing in the firelight.

She'd been silent the entire time, tilting her head to follow the slight pressure of his hands, resisting the slight tugs he couldn't quite prevent as he pulled her hair free. Even when her braids were gone, the hair pins making a small gleaming pile on the table between their glasses,_ hers empty, his still completely full,_ he didn't stop, feeling the strands settle beneath his hands as he stroked back from her forehead and along her scalp.

Finally she sighed, her shoulders eased, and her head fell back against the chair. He smiled, and stepped around the chair to stand in front of her.

Her face looked different now. He could see the shadows beneath her eyes, almost like dim purple bruises between her lashes, and the shift of her neck as she swallowed.

He let his hand rest against her cheek, pausing long enough to feel another sigh escape her, and he leaned in to kiss her, one soft slow brush of lips.

Her mouth opened readily enough, her body soft and pliant in the chair, but he pulled back with a frown. She was permitting his touch, but she didn't seem to have any real reaction of her own.

That … was not ideal.

That disturbed him, in fact. That disturbed him quite a lot, the thought of having his way with her while she was basically elsewhere, and he stepped back, reaching down to pick up his glass and take a drink.

Her lashes moved as she opened her eyes, just a crack, just enough to look at him. He saw an eyebrow lift, and assumed she was wondering what he thought he was doing.

That was a little difficult to answer, all things considered.

He finished his wine, and still didn't quite know what to do next. He wasn't expecting love or adoration, that would be a touch ridiculous, but he would like her to at least have some feelings on the matter.

Preferably some healthy lust. He was a fan of lust. And he had thought she liked him well enough not to find the prospect disgusting, at least.

_But perhaps not quite yet?_

He slowly bent his knees until he was settled in front of her, balanced on his toes, and he reached out to take her hand. He felt rather gigantic and awkward, suddenly, rough tanned fingers larger than hers, wrapping around smooth pale skin.

_Well, not that smooth,_ he realized as he turned her hand over, his fingers catching against her callouses as he stroked her palm and trailed gently all the way up to her fingertips. _No proper Fereldan leader is completely helpless._

"Archery?" He asked, tilting his head slightly. There were a few rough patches where a hilt would rest, but the the rest didn't quite match.

"I used to spar with blades as well," she whispered, "but there are few people willing to swing a sword at their Queen, and most especially not when she's widow."

There was an edge to that sentence, and he imagined what he would have done, if after Howe's attack he'd been denied the release of trying to hit someone _very very hard _almost every morn at practice.

"We shall have to change that." He lifted his head to look her in the eyes, her fingers still resting in his grasp. "Remind them all how much we value our warrior queens?"

Her nostrils flared and he saw her blink, as if that wasn't the answer she'd expected. He liked being unpredictable. He smiled.

She snorted softly, the least delicate sound he'd ever heard her make, and the side of her mouth twisted up in what was almost a smile of her own. "And who are you going to order to cooperate with this plan?"

"Why, I will, to begin with. I'm quite sure Zevran would be happy to show you some tricks as well, if you'd like?"

A slight crease formed between her eye brows as he mentioned Zevran, as if she was trying not to frown and not quite succeeding.

"He will flirt outrageously with you in the process, of course, so if you'd rather not I'm quite sure we'll have guardsmen lining up for the honor."

Her eyebrows lifted now, both of them, a hint of surprise and derision. She really did have the most remarkable face, subtle and smooth and beautiful, and extremely expressive, once he got used to it.

"As soon as we get them accustomed to the idea."

And that twist of a smile was back now, for a moment, before she blinked rather suddenly and dropped her gaze back to their hands.

"Why are you so sad, my lady?"

"I do not have the luxury of sadness, my lord." Her expression had returned to her cool mask again, and the sight of it made his throat feel tight.

"You do now, Anora. Here, if no where else, I will never deny you your grief." _I have quite enough of my own as well, after all._

Her eyes closed, a slight shiver through her cheeks as she shook her head. "Tonight is not a night for grief, now is it?"

He shook his head with a sigh. "Tonight is for us. Whatever it is we need. There's no need to rush."

"Are you not … interested, my lord?" Her voice was stiff, and he could feel the increased tension in her hands.

He laughed, forcing himself to swallow the sound as she yanked her hands away from his, her eyes widening with a flash of anger. _There's the Anora I want to get to know, I knew she had to be in there. _

He leaned in close enough to whisper in her ear, smiling a little as he saw her fingers curl, presumably suppressing the urge to shove him back.

"I am exceedingly interested," he whispered, letting his voice drop, low and rough, watching the skin on her lovely neck shiver at the brush of his breath. He kissed her cheek and leaned back on his heels, giving her room again. "But we have to learn to live together. There are more important things than my interest. Including the continued function of my knees, quite truthfully."

He pushed himself up to his full height with a groan, stretching his back and rolling his shoulders. "It has been a very long, very difficult year, has it not?"

"Yes." Her voice was still soft and even, but as she blinked he could almost see a glint of moisture caught on her lashes. "Yes it has."

"Then there's nothing wrong with a little rest to recuperate, now is there?"

"No, no there is not." Her smile was different this time, her entire face softening with the shift of mouth and cheeks and brows.

"Well then." He reached out his hand, and pulled her gently to her feet when she took it. Aedan tucked her hand against his side, and escorted her to their bed, neither of them saying another word.

He pulled the bed-curtains closed, and they settled into the thick mattress beneath them, warm and dark and quiet. He stroked her hair as she rested her head on his shoulder, and while she never sobbed, her breath barely heavy enough for him to hear, his nightshirt was damp by the time she finally fell asleep.

It didn't take him too much longer to follow, oddly eased by the feel of her fingers resting across his chest.


End file.
